


Perfection

by mordereddo



Series: Memories of a Forsworn: Morzan [1]
Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Bad English, Betrayal, Character Death, Character Study, Childhood Memories, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dragon Riders, Dragons, FanFiction.Net, Gen, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Male Friendship, Memories, Not Beta Read, Not Brom/Morzan intended but feel free to read into it, Pre-Canon, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28267104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordereddo/pseuds/mordereddo
Summary: Brom remembers Morzan. Morzan, who was perfection.
Relationships: Brom (Inheritance Cycle) & Morzan
Series: Memories of a Forsworn: Morzan [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077497
Kudos: 9





	Perfection

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle. This is just for fun.

**PERFECTION**

**_(Part I of 'Memories of a Forsworn: Morzan'-Collection)_ **

* * *

**~ I ~**

_Brom stared at the wine-red sheath he held in his hands as he sat on what he called his bed._

_He should have gotten rid of the blade a long time ago, but he couldn't and he didn't really understand why. Why would he choose to keep such weapon? How many people had it slain? How many_ dragons _?_

His _poor Saphira._

* * *

**~ II ~**

Brom was still a child when he travelled to Ellésmera for the first time, his young blue dragon by his side

It was there, in the deeps of the elven forests, that he first laid eyes on that young man, though not really a man at that time. He had been sitting on the thick branch of an old tree, at least twelve feet above the ground, one of his long legs dangling while the other was angled with a book placed on top. His hair was cut just above his chin, framing his face in wavy motions, thick as cotton and black as a raven's feather. Something about his whole appearance made Brom gasp in awe that didn't go unnoticed. The boy's attention wandered from the pages of the book to him; black, maybe dark brown, and blue met his own azure eyes.

Now that they were staring at each other, Brom got a better look of that angled face. He couldn't recall many things of his life, for it had been unnaturally long and for his dragon's death had caused him too much grief and had almost cost him his sanity, but that face he would never forget.

At that time, he hadn't realized but looking back, the black-haired youth had looked older than his fifteen years. His cheeks were still holding that childish fat, but his cheekbones were high, his brows thick and long and his lips fully formed. The way he turned the pages with his slender long fingers had something elegant that made a man wonder, if he was just as graceful with a sword in his hand (and he was).

His skin was as pale as the snow on top of the Beor Mountains, especially in contrast with his dark hair but unlike others, it didn't give him that haunted look, but made him strikingly handsome.

* * *

**~ III ~**

It was Oromis Thrándurin that took Brom as an apprentice and it was with his teacher, where he met that youth for a second time.

 _Morzan_ was his name and Brom was shocked to find out that this specimen was undoubtedly human. Even in the years to come, Morzan's ears would never get that pointy shape, but to him it didn't matter; He knew he had enough pride and beauty of his own.

Already tall at fifteen, Morzan grew even higher. His shoulder became broad and he looked buff and strong but no less agile and fast.

He was the very epitome of human perfection, at least to Brom and the boy quickly noticed, how even the elves admired Morzan's handsomeness and strength when he passed by.

He was no exception and naively, he trusted Morzan with all his heart for he was his idol.

Sharing the same teacher, Brom befriended him soon enough and never realized how shamefully the other treated him, when Brom showed him nothing but kindness. Brom took the belittling as a joke, for how could someone like Morzan hold evil inside his heart?

The other apprentices however, stayed away from the youth with the two different irises, not fooled by the arrogance that lingered beneath the perfect surface. Though the people looked at him with a certain kind of adoration, they also talked; not much was known of his past but it was whispered that he was of a noble man born to a whore and that the blue blood inside his veins pulsated so strong, it coloured his left eye. Morzan himself never spoke of his family, but held his head high no matter the rumours. Instead he smiled cruelly at the jealousy of others, for he _knew_ he was better than anyone else.

* * *

**~ IV ~**

The years went on and the prodigy dragon rider Brom admired so much, became stronger in almost every way, the fire of his blood and his own impatience keeping him going towards greatness.

"Charismatic" and "cunning" they would say about him and they were right. Oromis however, said that Morzan was weak in mind, making the youth lose his temper. Criticism he never took well. If he had, Brom doubted he would have lost his way. Or was it just fate?

A fateful night: The famous blood-red sword was forged.

Never would Brom forget the spark inside Morzan's different coloured eyes as he raised the blade high, giving it a name that promised to bring doom upon all those who dared to stand in his way.

Zar'roc. Beautiful as his wielder and just as deadly.

Even with the years passing, Morzan retained his youth, his chin always bare and his hair still as black as a starless sky.

* * *

**~ V ~**

To Brom, Morzan was perfection. It must have been just when he left the forest that his imperfections started to get the better of him, the very things Oromis had criticised.

For how strong and ambitious he was, he must have been weak in mind for a mad fugitive to convince him. Many years later, Brom still didn't understand why Morzan chose to talk or worse, _trust_ **him**. Morzan had been arrogant and a bully, but still innocent. Choosing to trust Galbatorix, was his downfall.

It was Morzan who left the gates open at Ilirea, where Galbatorix stole an egg and killed the destined rider.

Galbatorix took him in as an apprentice, taught him of dark secrets and gave him power, the only thing that Morzan ever wanted. His lust for strength was greater than his pride or honor, for he spit them into Brom's face when he revealed himself to the world at the side of his new King, after disappearing to places Brom would rather not know.

Throughout the land he became known as the first (and later the last) of the Forsworn, the traitor.

Whoever met him and was lucky enough to get away, would never forget the cruelty that was almost visible in his handsome features, the shiny black armour he would polish day and night to make himself visible to his enemies, and that haunting voice.

Then and only then, began Brom hating the man, dedicating his life to bring him to justice.

* * *

**~ VI ~**

When he first challenged Morzan at Gil'ead, Brom lost his dragon. His dear Saphira, who gave her life to protect him.

To this day, the cruel smile haunted him, reminding him of his failure and plaguing him during the nights. Could he have prevented it? He would never know.

A human lifetime passed too fast. Then, Morzan met the woman that would change the course of his life. How and when, Brom didn't know, nor where they went and for how long but somehow, she must have seen past the man's sins, for she fell in love with him and bore him a child after three years.

Despite everything, Brom believed that somehow, Morzan held some kind of (twisted) love for these two beings. Why else would he hide them in his castle, hidden deep in the Spine near Leona lake, if they were but tools?

If he truly did, he never showed. The few times Brom saw or heard the rider when he worked in the garden, Morzan was either drunk, enraged or both, turning him into something more beast than human. He would throw bottles at the woman Brom learned to love and Zar'roc at his sons back, slicing him in two.

And then, they faced off again and to this day, Brom was unsure how he managed, but the moment his sword pierced Morzan's chest, the perfect façade fell apart.

Even if Brom had hated him for all the things he had done, Morzan had still been perfection in a way – a passionate soul with ambitions not only to be good, but the very best. Like a raging fire; admired by many and feared by more. Never had he bested the man in a duel before this day, never could his magic compete.

But in that moment, when the iron walls around Morzan's mind fell apart and Brom felt his thoughts and dreams and fears wash over him, he knew that all of them had been wrong.

Morzan had never been perfection.

There was so much fear; fear of never being enough and fear of the other Forsworn finding out about his family, although they were all dead by now.

Anger, at the world for letting him become this way, for never reaching out to him.

Arrogance, because he was so much stronger and better than those around him. A fact.

Vanity, for being of noble blood and actually caring about trivial matters like this.

Impatience, that was the reason his spells could not hold off Brom from sneaking into his fortress.

And incredible sadness, for all of this was him and yet it wasn't. Was he just as mad as his dragon had become?

And even a tiny shard of love. Not for Selena, for she was only proof of his weakness for the flesh he prouded himself to stand above, but for his son. Probably not because he wanted it, but because it was _human_ , something Morzan never ceased to be, even when they worshipped him like a god.

There were so many weaknesses, some of them more apparent than others and Brom asked himself, how and why no one, not even Oromis, had seen through to them?

* * *

**~ VII ~**

_Brom sighed and put the sword away, once again pushing the day forward he would get rid of it forever. But today was not the day he was able to say goodbye._

_He had said his farewell to Saphira and to Selena, but not to Morzan, not yet. Because his inheritance was the only thing left that reminded Brom of back then, of a happier time, when the wings of Saphira carried him over the forest of Du Weldenwarden._

_He tried to remember those lost memories of his early life and was surprised to see it so clearly: Everywhere he looked, there were dragons gracing the sky. To his right, Oromis and his golden Glaedr and to his left, Morzan on his red dragon whose name he no longer could speak. Brom's first flight, and the only time he saw the other apprentice smile. Not the maniacal laughter that made him sound like he was in pain, but a genuine smile._

_There had been no place on earth where the young man was meant to be other than on top of a dragon's back. And even the old and wise riders would look at Morzan with envy in their eyes, for his blood was the fire of dragons and he was, when only for this brief moment, maybe not perfect, but_ _**untamed** _ _and_ _**free** _ _._

**Author's Note:**

> At this point you've probably realized that English is like.. my worst language. I ended up drawing Morzan and then suddenly felt the words coming for this fic, so I hope you enjoyed.  
> 


End file.
